


Hungover Sundays

by Kryzanna



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Bromance, College AU, Dorm Life - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 19:18:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2121645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kryzanna/pseuds/Kryzanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kagami's Sundays at college always seemed to run in sort of the same way. But over time, routines can change. What remains constant, however, is the fact that Aomine Daiki always seems to play a part. </p><p>Series of oneshots in which there are always those who are the envy of the group for evading a hangover, and others that might need a hand surviving until dinner on account of almost being destroyed by them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hungover Sundays

**Author's Note:**

> In which this one progresses much the same as every other Sunday morning before.

Like last weekend, and the weekend before that, and every weekend since coming to college, Kagami Taiga woke with a kink in his neck. He yawned, shifting experimentally and praying that it wasn’t that god forsaken stiffness back again to haunt his day –but alas, as usual, he was hoping in vain. With a soft groan, he rubbed his eyes and tried to shift his neck back into its normal alignment, being met with a touch of pain and the realisation that his arm had gone dead at some point in the night.

Ah, well, sleeping on the floor would do that to a person.

It was the worst part about Sunday mornings, in his opinion –the neck thing, not the floor, although the all-consuming thirst for fluids was kind of a drag. The alternative for the floor was the couch in the dormitory common room, and there was no way in hell Kagami was going to be trying to sleep on that thing that must have been designed to fit elves or something. (Also, there was the fact that sleeping in public space was seen as permission for embarrassing photos to be taken or ridiculous amounts of things being piled upon one’s sleeping form; and Kagami had heard terrible stories about teabagging incidences in other blocks, and wasn’t taking any chances –though he was pretty sure none of the guys on his floor would do that sort of thing. It didn’t hurt to be careful, though.)

With another yawn, and his stomach growling for food, he sat up and rolled his shoulders, hearing his joints crick with a most satisfying sound. Discarding the blanket he’d been using, he checked the clock –eight-thirty, like usual –and scrounged for a shirt to wear down to the dining room. (The floor supervisors were pretty strict about clothing being worn in the cafeteria.)

The first shirt he found wasn’t his, but he knew by now that there wouldn’t be too many people down in the living room to judge his choice of clothing. Sometimes he’d shower before heading for breakfast, but he was too hungry right now, and he knew that the bathrooms would definitely need to be available for at least another hour or two.

Stuffing his feet into some jandals, he slowly plodded towards the door of his room and headed out into the hallway; giving a customary sympathetic nod to the girl sneaking out of his neighbour’s room. Maybe things were getting serious; she’d been the same one for a few weeks running now. Already, he could hear someone not having a very good time in one of the bathrooms.

Ah, typical Sundays.

The breakfast line was non-existent; just the way Kagami liked it –it meant that he could use all the toasters at once instead of having to laboriously make his mountain of breakfast two slices at a time. The dining room was relatively empty as well, save for the regulars that were always about for breakfast on Sunday mornings.

“ –again. Can the brat seriously not  _ever_ remember his key?” a familiar voice; one of the floor supervisors, was complaining, “Waking the whole floor up at some godforsaken hour…”

“Morning, Kasamatsu-san,” Kagami greeted, placing his tray, complete with dangerously teetering stack of toast, down on the table beside the dark-haired floor supervisor, who seemed to be in the middle of the standard Sunday morning rant about a particular forgetful blond that for some reason insisted, practically every weekend, on leaving his key at home, losing everyone, and then banging on the door of the block until someone came to let him in.

“Morning,” Kasamatsu sighed formally, munching on his cereal and sending a helpless look across the table to the guy who he had obviously just been complaining to. “ –How was your night?”

“Pretty good,” Kagami admitted, nodding in greeting to the familiar face sitting opposite him and receiving one in return, “You should’ve come out last night, Midorima; it was pretty great –I’m pretty sure that Takao –”

“I have no interest in poisoning my body and making a fool of myself,” Midorima sniffed, turning his nose up at the very notion and sipping on his tea.

“…You don’t have to drink…” Kagami pointed out with a roll of his eyes. Even though they weren’t at high school any more, and despite the fact that Takao’s influence had really mellowed out Midorima, the guy still insisted on being a bit of a stick in the mud. “Kuroko doesn’t drink, and he has a good time, too…I mean, I don’t know when he came home, but…”

“I don’t know how he can enjoy himself surrounded by you lot,” Midorima scoffed, and Kagami couldn’t help but feel as though it was really a waste of time trying to get the guy to chill out and let loose for a bit, “What foolish things did you get up to last night, when you should have been studying?”

“Ah,” Kagami snickered, and if he was Takao, he might have understood that the other boy was actually a little intrigued, and rather did enjoy hearing about the escapades of their Saturday night. But he wasn’t Takao, and therefore thought that Midorima was just being his old, somewhat abrasive self. “Well, after we got kicked out, we went into town –played some pool, danced a bit; Tatsuya went missing again…the asshole got into another fight…”

“ –You wound up letting Kise escape again…” Kasamatsu added meaningfully, and Kagami rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Some girls wanted to have drinks with him,” he defended, “ –He told us he’d meet up with us later and, y’know…” He shrugged helplessly. Losing people in town was just a fact of the night –Kise was a big boy though; he always found his way home; sometimes with company, sometimes with a friend –usually without his key, and usually with phone in hand to call Midorima and wail about being let in until the ex-shooting guard ventured down to the front door.

Kasamatsu pressed a hand to his forehead as though the topic was giving him a particularly unpleasant migraine, and Kagami couldn’t help but chuckle. Some twist of fate had landed a whole heap of their high school rivals and friends at the same university, in the same dorm, and something cruel and merciless had placed Kise Ryouta on the same floor as his old senpai.

“ –Another fight?” Midorima inquired flatly, addressing Kagami’s earlier statement, though he didn’t appear to be surprised, “What did he do  _this_  time?” Kagami, who had been midway through a mouthful of food, hurriedly swallowed.

“Oh, uh, chick had a boyfriend,” he shrugged dismissively –because this wasn’t an unfamiliar situation. Midorima rolled his eyes.

“Again?” he muttered, shaking his head, “He has no sense of self control, does he?”

“Not really,” Kagami snorted, despite the fact that the question was rhetorical.

The rest of the breakfast passed easily, like it did every Sunday. Midorima would be silently disapproving of Kagami’s eating habits and lack of motivation to study, and Kasamatsu would be making easy conversation despite the fact that he was still prickly about having been woken up at some ungodly hour by Kise stumbling back home and causing a racket in the hallway.

“Ah, I might go grab a shower,” Kagami finally yawned, when he’d spent enough time stalling at the breakfast table. In high school, he and Midorima hadn’t exactly seen eye to eye, but since they were part of the same friend group and all (well, Midorima had been unceremoniously dragged in by Takao), they’d managed to get along. Kagami still didn’t completely get what his deal was, but he was okay to hang with sometimes; they still played ball when Midorima wasn’t busy studying his ass off, and if Kagami caught him on a lucky day, he was sometimes open to a bit of tutoring.

Even if he’d always wind up questioning how the hell Kagami managed to get good enough grades to even get  _into_  college.

“Also, Kagami…” Midorima queried suddenly, in a tone that, had Kagami been Takao, he might have realised was his version of teasing, “…Since when did you go to Touou?”

For a moment there, Kagami didn’t quite understand, turning back to look at Midorima sitting there with arms folded smugly –and it wasn’t until Kasamatsu graced them with a soft snicker that he remembered the shirt he’d tugged on before leaving his room.

“Shut up!” he sniffed hotly, “He left his stuff in my room last night when we got changed for town, okay??” And with the two geniuses chuckling at him, he turned his back again, the bold TOUOU on his back marking the item as a leaver’s hoodie that just might have been his, had Midorima and Kasamatsu not known which high school Kagami  _actually_  came from.

 

* * *

 

On his way back to his room, he encountered less than a handful of people –and most of those only emerging from their rooms to embrace a toilet or to shower away the sweat and probably reasonable amount of regret that still lingered from the night before. As he took to the stairs, he caught sight of other students lumbering down their respective hallways –half of them still clad in their clothes from the night before, and the other half in haphazardly thrown on pyjamas.

By now, he could really appreciate the majesty of a Sunday morning. There was really nothing quite like the look of a dormitory around this kind of week; the dark-eyed grimaces about being awake; the furrowed, questioning frowns accompanying increasingly hazy memories; that zombie-like shuffle and groan that tended to be unique to the hung-over.

He didn’t envy them. Not one bit.

His door was still shut; how he’d left it before heading for breakfast, but he was in dire need of a shower –club sweat was never a good thing, and it didn’t hurt to get into the showers before the dead started rising and wanting to sit in the shower hung over for an hour.

The door creaked open, and Kagami slunk across the room, kicking dirty clothes into a pile and tearing off the jersey he’d donned for the sole purpose of looking relatively presentable at dinner. As he gathered up a clean towel, he spared a glance across at his bed –currently occupied with the useless lump that had decided that his own room was too far to walk –despite it only being another floor up.  

As if feeling eyes upon his sleeping form, the huddled figure let out a low snore, fidgeting in his sleep and rolling to sprawl out on his stomach –taking full advantage of Kagami’s comfortable bed. He seemed to be having a fucking restful and painless sleep. A pang of annoyance and jealousy shot through the redhead in the form of a throb from his aching neck.

The dark head of hair nuzzled into the pillow a little; snoring again and mumbling something in his sleep before lolling again lazily with his face in Kagami’s direct line of sight. For not the first time, Kagami felt the urge to fill the nearest bucket with water or to suddenly yank the curtains open –though he knew from experience that that sort of thing would only incite vengeance and lead to escalating retaliation which would eventually require floor supervisor intervention.

Or worse;  _Kuroko_  intervention.

Almost able to feel his friend’s sharp fingers jabbing into his ribs, he pushed aside such an urge, and settled with a soft, good-natured snicker. As he headed towards the bathroom, he couldn’t help shaking his head almost incredulously –if someone had told him in high school that he’d one day be letting  _Aomine Daiki_  frequent his bed, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

But here they were, in college (miraculously), and this Sunday morning, like practically every one before, he was shutting the door of his room on Aomine himself snoring contentedly through the worst of his hangover.

Well, that was the general idea, at least.  

Sunday mornings never seemed to be very kind to him, no matter how much he slept.

No matter how good the night before had been; if Aomine been drinking, he was almost  _guaranteed_  to wake up at somewhere close to lunchtime with the most pounding of headaches and an extensively feeble stomach. He’d discovered pretty early on that even though he could hold his alcohol pretty well throughout the course of the night, it always came back to hit him in the ass in the morning. Heading to sleep, he was prone to bed-spins, and upon waking, he’d discover that there were patches of the night fuzzy or missing. A few drunken experiences in high school had informed him that when it came to drinking, he could handle it as well as the next guy…until the next day, at least.

He knew what heading off to college and into the arms of the lifestyle of a student would do. He knew he’d wake up in a god-awful state with a throat drier than hell and the notion that he might actually kill a man for some painkillers and something greasy. He knew that there would be nights of heavy alcohol consumption and bad life decisions and times where he’d pass out and not remember large chunks of the night, and never want to leave horizontal again.

Yeah; he knew that hangovers were going to  _suck._

And then came his godsend.

Unfortunately for the both of them, it came in the form of Kagami Taiga.

 

* * *

 

Kagami didn’t exactly know what it was, but somehow, he’d discovered that he was rather excellent at holding his liquor. Coming to college had brought upon this enlightenment; mostly because after the first Saturday night staying at the dorms, where pretty much every resident drank themselves silly, he was one of the few of them who had still gotten up for breakfast on Sunday morning with his ability to communicate still intact. He’d had quite a bit to drink the night before –probably precipitated by an encounter with some old high school friends and a challenge thrown down –but he hadn’t realised that hangovers were so… _common._

Or so debilitating.

The floor supervisors who had been down at breakfast had been incredibly surprised to see him down there at eight-thirty with bowls in hand and plate stacked with toast enough to feed a small army. He’d been a little confused about why it was so strange for him to be up at that time, until he had realised that a grand total of about ten people seemed to be alive at that hour.

Upon returning to his floor, he’d been greeted by the sound of someone chucking their guts up in the toilet, as well as seeing about three young women –obviously still dressed in their clubbing clothes from the night before –slowly closing doors behind him and sneaking down the stairs carrying their shoes. One of his neighbours had emerged after one of them, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a neck smeared with lipstick, and looking  _wrecked_.

“Water,” was all he had croaked, before stumbling towards the other bathroom. A little taken aback by the guy’s apparel, and seeing him slump down around the toilet before the door clicked shut, Kagami had decided to do him a solid and fetch him some water. Venturing towards the common room, he hadn’t known whether to be amused or full of pity for the one or two people he saw dragging their feet towards the bathroom –and the one person he saw completely comatose in the corridor. He’d almost waved at them experimentally, before seeing their glazed, unfocused eyes and taking note that there was no way they were prepared for human contact.

Perhaps he’d been too loud in the kitchen –he wasn’t trying to be, since he at least knew what people said about hung over people not liking loud noises, but inevitably, he still managed to piss someone off.

“Oi, can you not?” an annoyed, raspy voice had inquired drowsily, as Kagami had clattered around in the beer-smelling common room trying to find a cup that didn’t stink of alcohol. Surprised by the voice, since the room was still dark and contained pretty much a table and two small couches, he’d nearly spilled water all over himself, and been about to apologise for waking up whoever it was –when he had actually turned around, and discovered who it was.

“…Give us some of that…” the lump on the couch had demanded, words still slurred as though fighting against unconsciousness. One lazy eye opened, apparently trying to muster up a glare but having a little bit of trouble with it. Kagami, instead of obeying, had abruptly burst out laughing at the sight of Aomine Daiki, his old high school rival-slash-friend, and the guy who had challenged him to a drinking contest the night before, lying slumped on a too-small couch, limbs dangling off in all directions; hair a mussed up mess, and a bruise already beginning to form over his swollen left eye.

At the sound of Kagami’s laughter, Aomine’s good eye had twitched in annoyance, and he’d groaned, clamping a hand lazily over one ear.

“Too loud…” he complained in a groan, trying to curl up on the couch a little better and failing miserably. Kagami, torn between wanting to help and wanting to take a picture, had gone over and placed a large cup of water beside the couch, and as soon as fluids had hit Aomine’s lips, he had heard the most  _grateful_  sound burst from his old rival’s lips.

“Fuck,” Aomine had cursed, holding out the empty cup for another. Kagami was about to stomp on his face for being a presumptive and demanding bastard, but, seeing the dead eyes, heavy with dark rings, glaring up at him, he’d decided to relent; just this once.

Another cup of water had found itself to Aomine.

And then another.

It was about half a dozen cups of water later that Aomine deemed himself at least partially rehydrated, and dismissed the redhead with a mutter of something unintelligible (and of course that had made Kagami fume). A few lines of annoyed conversation had informed him that the pair of them had stumbled home with a couple of their friends at some ungodly hour, and Aomine had opted for face-planting onto the couch instead of passing out on the stairs. Kagami had only had enough time to snap that this was the last time he was doing him any favours, before the drunkard on the couch promptly rolled over and ignored him.

Finally, though, he managed to make it back to the bathroom with the vomiting neighbour and deliver some water, which he was actually thanked for, this time. And when Kuroko had finally woken up, and come up to see what all the stomping was about on fourth floor, he had been most amused to find Kagami in a bad mood and Aomine looking like he’d been flattened by a truck.

Looking back, that had probably been the start of their Sunday morning routine.

Because, despite Kagami’s words and intentions to let the ungrateful bastard suffer his hangovers alone, the next weekend when he found a snoring Aomine dozing between waking and dead on the floor of the common room, he’d offered him a couple of his leftover cheeseburgers that he’d been saving from the night before.

And before he knew it, Aomine, too lazy to drunkenly manoeuvre more stairs, and always as bad as Kise at remembering his own key, had started winding up claiming Kagami’s bed. But no matter how much Kagami protested, or kicked him, or swore himself blue that Aomine was an ungrateful asshole and that next time he was going to lock him out, when Sunday morning came around, Aomine would always be tucked up under the covers, and Kagami on the floor because it made sense for the person who was going to sleep the day away to be the one in the bed.

And thankfully, Sundays always seemed to proceed in much the same fashion.

* * *

 

As soon as Aomine opened his eyes, he regretted it.

To his great relief, the room was still dark, but he was met with a pounding headache that informed him that he had definitely had too much to drink last night, and a burning throat that reminded him that it hadn’t been water that he’d consumed.

He groaned, burying his face into Kagami’s pillow again and sighing deeply in the hopes that that would soothe his throbbing head.

It didn’t.

His knuckles hurt. His ribs hurt. His jaw kind of hurt a little. He’d probably fought someone last night. That wouldn’t be surprising –he usually wasn’t an outright violent person, but sometimes drinking brought out the worst in people…and if a guy swung first…

“Ugh….” He groaned into the pillow, grimacing as the t-shirt he was wearing (probably Kagami’s) caught on his skin, still sticky from the club sweat of the night before. “Uuuuggggghhhh…..” He might’ve croaked a curse if he was confident that his mouth wasn’t going to crack if he tried. Dammit he was thirsty.

Almost like clockwork, he heard the sound of the door creaking in, and the smell of something  _clean_. A thin sliver of light trickled in, and though it wasn’t particularly painful, Aomine couldn’t help but let out another groan of protest; rocking his body into the mattress in a weak attempt to bury himself away.

He heard that familiar, soft snicker in response.

“So you’re finally awake?” Kagami’s amused voice inquired as he padded over to the bed, smelling freshly showered, and sounding like he had way too much energy for this time of morning. 

“No.”

Footsteps grew closer, and Aomine allowed his head to loll sideways slightly; opening one eye just a little to catch sight of Kagami’s shadowy form approaching the edge of the bed. He bent down, and there was that beautiful sound of water sloshing in a giant juice bottle. Oh, that sweet, sweet sound of hydration-to-be. Limply, his hand fell from the blankets and landed on the top of the container, and Kagami laughed at him again; the kind of laugh that someone does when they really want to be explosive about it but feel a little bad about it.

Unable to resist this time, Kagami tossed his damp hair, sending a thin spray of water droplets across Aomine’s bare arm and face. His friend recoiled in annoyance as though it stung, and blue eyes glared up at him as fingers tried to remember how exactly to grip a juice bottle.

Snickering to himself and very aware that Aomine was unimpressed with his amusement, Kagami backed out of the room again after hanging up his towel.

“Morning Kagami,” a hoarse voice remarked quietly from behind him as he was in the process of closing his door again. He looked over his shoulder, running a hand back through his hair, and smirked at the sight of the newcomer ambling down the hallway; dark bags under his eyes, and mouth mid-yawn.

“Yo, Takao,” he greeted casually, “How’s it going?”

“Just peachy,” Takao replied dryly, yawning again and leaning heavily against the wall opposite Kagami’s room, “Yourself?”

“Pretty good,” Kagami admitted with a smirk back into his room, “I’m feeling great. Well, apart from the bruised ribs –” He rubbed his gut and winced with a scowl, causing Takao’s eyebrows to shoot up into his hair questioningly. “…I got sucker punched,” he elaborated with an annoyed sigh, “Because  _someone_  decided it was a great idea to try hit on a chick with a boyfriend…”

“ – _I can fucking hear you,_ ” an irritated, muffled voice growled from inside Kagami’s room, causing the two considerably less hung-over individuals in the corridor to smirk at one another, “And she was _interested!_ How was I meant to know she had a boyfriend…”  

“Morning, Aomine,” Takao chirped, sticking his head in through the door and waving at the lump in Kagami’s bed, “How are we feeling this morning?” he added, more than a little impishly. He simply received a middle finger flung back at him; Aomine not even bothering to raise his head from the pillow.

“Good, then?” Takao continued mischievously, “See you for some study after lunch then?”

He received nothing more than a groan in response.

 

* * *

 

 

It was half-past one in the afternoon.

Kagami was busy lounging in the common room watching some terrible daytime TV with one or two of his floor-mates who happened to be over the worst of their hangovers and fit for socialisation. He’d already been for lunch with Takao and Midorima –during which, Midorima was not in the least bit grateful for the green billiard ball (number 6) that Takao had mysteriously ‘acquired’ at some point the night before.

But even Kagami knew that no matter how much Midorima stuck his nose up at the item (all the while claiming how it was probably riddled with diseases, and acquired through dubious means), the gift would be polished accordingly and put in its place with all of Takao’s other various acquisitions. Drunkenly  _obtaining_  things seemed to be a talent-slash-habit of the ex-point guard’s –dice here, a discarded sign there…

Lunch had been as uneventful as usual, where Kuroko had, as usual, appeared out of nowhere looking relatively fresh apart from his terrible bedhead, and started Kagami so badly he yelled and attracted the attention of probably most of the dining hall. Wakamatsu had turned up at some point, sporting a cut lip and what looked like a rather swollen nose –which wasn’t all that surprising, because he tended to get pretty loud and confrontational when they went out. Sakurai was at his elbow as well, looking relatively alive but refusing to eat for fear of angering his feeble stomach. They probably shouldn’t have been mean to the guy but Wakamatsu and Takao especially liked to wind him up by making the most disgusting looking things out of their spaghetti and scrambled eggs. By the end of the meal, Sakurai was looking rather green.

Aomine still hadn’t appeared when he left lunch. It wasn’t overly surprising, really –Kagami had stopped waking him for breakfast when he’d discovered that even though hung-over Aomine craved jam on toast and scrambled eggs, if he ate them he’d spend the rest of the afternoon dry-retching over a toilet. Some things agreed with a drunk stomach, and some things didn’t, it seemed.

Following standard Sunday morning operating procedure, Kagami happened to run into none other than Kise Ryouta upon returning to his dorm block. In vast contrast to those less fortune (such as Aomine, Sakurai and Takao), Kise was of the same breed as Kagami, and somehow managed to look fresh and well-rested no matter how much he’d had to drink the night before or what ungodly hour he’d returned home. An often brought up topic amongst their friend group was how no one had ever seen Kise hung-over –and everyone was a little bit intrigued to see what it was like. Of course, he  _had_  to be feeling it, but, as the resident heartthrob (and Kasamatsu was known to visually cringe whenever someone said that within earshot), Kise had a reputation to uphold –and was therefore always looking energised and ready for the day.

…The exception being when Kasamatsu was on the warpath or when his friends weren’t standing for his pouts.

As usual, passing Kise on the stairs had led to Kagami warning him to maybe not go to lunch today, because Kasamatsu was on duty in the cafeteria, and had a kind of raptor-look in his eyes that pretty much everyone in the block meant that he hadn’t had enough sleep and was just itching to kick Kise in the ass. The fact that some of Kise’s habits irritated Kasamatsu to violence, apparently hadn’t changed since high school.

 

 

* * *

 

There was something quaint about a Sunday afternoon, Kagami had to admit, as he looked up at the clock and found to his delight that there was still a lot of time left in the day. It was a little overcast today, bordering on rain, but no one in the common room really minded. Kagami and Takao were perched on the couches playing video games with Wakamatsu and occasionally yelling so loudly that Sakurai, studying over in the corner with Kuroko, would start in surprise and his pen would go skittering across his page. Himuro had been seen slinking back into the block sometime after lunch, looking as though he’d dressed rather haphazardly, and, according to Sakurai, had been rather hazy about his whereabouts, and when exactly he’d split off from the group the night before. He was there in the common room too (despite not living on this floor), now; freshly showered and thankfully looking a little more presentable. Kagami had inquired how his night was (there was no point in asking where he’d been, because he liked to keep a bit of mystery), but as usual, Tatsuya had just smiled as though he knew something Kagami didn’t, and said that it had been good.

“Ahh! Takaocchi!” the distressed cry of Kise could be heard from down the hallway, following the sound of someone sprinting up the stairs at breakneck pace. If it had been anyone else, there would have been outcry in the corridor, or at the very least a number of people glaring angrily out from their doors –pissed off that their morning/afternoon sleep-in had been interrupted so rudely. However, since it was Kise, the girls on the floor, at least, were prone to being a whole lot more forgiving, and it wasn’t uncommon to have at least a couple of them craning their necks out from doorways to catch a glimpse of the handsome blond. Apparently even a stern talking-to from Kasamatsu about respecting other peoples' sleeping habits hadn't dampened his spirit. (No one knew why Kasamatsu bothered any more; no amount of lectures were ever going to make Kise remember his key).

“Someone lock the door,” Wakamatsu growled immediately, thumbs tapping at his controller almost violently since the game was apparently getting pretty close, “I don’t want that bastard to beat my high score again!”

Before anyone could grant his request though, the door was flung open and Kise, with a folder of loose notes in arm, barged in melodramatically.

“ –Midorimacchi locked me out of his room!” he announced, aghast, as though this didn’t happen on a regular basis.

“I can’t think why,” Himuro tittered lightly in jest, but Kise didn’t quite hear it, instead storming over to the table with intent.

“ –I just wanted some help with my assignment,” he groaned, plonking down at the table beside Sakurai.

“…You mean, you wanted the answers?” Kuroko corrected flatly.

“Well,  _yeah_ ,” Kise complained with a sigh, “It’s not worth anything anyway! I don’t see why it’s compulsory…Kurokocchi, do you think you could –”

“No.”

“…So mean.” Kise rested his chin on the table and pouted; apparently hoping that Kuroko had developed a sudden weakness to his pouts. It didn’t work; Kuroko simply continuing with his work and ignoring Kise’s batting eyes. He should've known that there were certain people in the room immune to such pouts. 

“ –Kagami-kun, don’t you have an assignment as well?” Kuroko inquired, as poor Sakurai suddenly found himself in the middle of an argument that involved Kise trying to beg him for answers, and Wakamatsu telling him to stop being such a damn pushover.

“Hmm? Uh, probably –oh yeah, one due on Wednesday,” Kagami shrugged as Takao raised a fist in the air in triumph and Wakamatsu promptly tossed his controller across the room in defeat. He glanced up to see Kuroko giving him a muted reproachful look. “…Oi! Don’t look at me like that, it’s still only Sunday!”

“He’s right,” Takao snickered, “ –That’s so much time. When’s yours due, Kise?”

“Tomorrow,” the blond wailed with a pout; imaginary puppy ears drooping sadly.

“Ooh, that’s stone cold of Shin-chan to lock you out,” Takao remarked sympathetically, though he too seemed pretty amused at how distressed Kise seemed to be about this assignment. It probably served him right –Kise was pretty prone to leaving things to the last minute and then begging for help the day before it was due.

“Wanna play?” he added, a touch of challenging wickedness appearing in his gaze, “This won’t be like that time with  _Dance, Dance Revolution_ , let me tell you...” Almost immediately, Kise’s eyes narrowed, and took on that almost dangerous glint that they sometimes did whenever he was particularly invested in a rivalry. A sudden intensity took over the room as the blond sat up a little straighter, examining Takao’s face and perhaps trying to gauge his resolve.

Kagami and Himuro exchanged glances with a small snicker.

“Was that a challenge?” Kise inquired, his voice almost dangerously light.

“And what if it was?” Takao shot back with a small smirk, inclining his head towards the screen and gesturing invitingly at Wakamatsu’s discarded controller, “This is gonna be a whole new game, Kise, I can assure you.”

Kuroko sighed heavily as Kise hurdled the couch and plonked himself down with a vehement cry of, “I won’t lose!” Ever since a particularly intense afternoon of Singstar, involving a lot of almost violent rap battles, botched high notes and less-than-friendly rivalries, it had been discovered that although relatively good friends in day to day life, their group…tended to not hold the same sense of comradeship with video games. Call of Duty games had been banned on the floor for some time –to maintain the sanity of the entire block. Aomine and Kagami had almost come to blows, the volume of swearing had been beyond tolerable, and a lot of things had been said that they really didn’t mean. It turned out that basketball wasn’t the only thing that Kagami’s group of friends were overly competitive in.

“You’re going down, this time,” Takao informed Kise with a little too much deadly intent in his voice.

“ –I’d like to see you try.”

“…Do you reckon Takao’s eyes are what makes him good at video games?” Wakamatsu mused, and there was sudden silence as everyone mulled over this possibility, with a touch of surprise that they’d never considered this before.

“Kise-kun, don’t you have an assignment to do?” Kuroko inquired.

“ –But I was _challenged_! I can’t just _back down_ from that!” Kise squawked with a pout, his pride on the line. 

"...You better not let Kasamatsu-san catch you slacking off..." Kuroko sighed heavily, but resigned to the fact that Kise was definitely not going to get work done this afternoon. Ah well, at least he'd stopped freaking out Sakurai. 

It was while the group of friends was engaged in conversation regarding study ethic and whether or not Takao’s amazing eyes enabled him to cheat at video games, that the door was unceremoniously shoved open.

It might have been the sound of the door thudding against the wall, or the beat of heavy footsteps, or the fact that the entire room had been expecting this sometime soon, but whatever it was, made them all stop mid-way through their conversations and glance over at the doorway.

Aomine Daiki looked like death.

He was dressed in one of Kagami’s shirts, with track pants riding down low on his hips, and a giant, empty juice bottle clutched loosely in his left hand. His bedhead was currently worse than anything Kuroko had managed to ever wake up with, and there was a soft shadow of stubble ghosting his jaw and making him look both older and dirtier than he was. His blue eyes were bloodshot and scowling as though the light of the room was really not at all comfortable.

Eyes unfocused and hazed over, Aomine shambled forwards, slow step after slow step –one hand clutching an obviously pounding headache. He seemed to barely register that there was anyone else in the room; he seemed determined to reach the sink. Amid a silent room, he lumbered over to the tap, and promptly began refilling his juice bottle with cold water.

A minute or so later, that task done, he shut off the water, turned around, leaned heavily against the sink and promptly sculled about a quarter of the bottle.

Water dribbled down his chin, but he didn’t seem to care; eyes closed in the glorious relief that hydration brought.

“…Morning, Aominecchi,” Kise greeted cheekily; gold eyes sly and just a little bit superior about how haggard and how utterly  _hung over_ Aomine looked. Aomine, tongue flicking out to mop up the water dripping from his lips, glared blunt daggers at the bright blond; knowing very well that he was being made fun of.

“Tch…” he growled, letting out a weak groan as his stomach made an incredibly displeased grumble. “Ugh…fuck…”

“Feeling good, are we?” Kagami inquired, veering a little more towards teasing than anything else. Apparently Aomine didn’t appreciate this, because his scathing glare was suddenly directed to the redhead. He wiped the water off his chin with Kagami’s shirt, the top riding up and revealing a bruise that was similar to the one Kagami had found on his ribs while showering –probably related to the fact that the pair of them had been involved in a brawl the night before.

“Never felt better,” Aomine growled back, deep voice absolutely dripping with sarcasm. The bags under his eyes were worse than Takao’s, and his lips were cracked. He rubbed his face, his stubble making the action sound a little scratchy. Kagami couldn’t help but grin –not even bothering to hide how hilarious he found this.

Actually, from the start, he’d never bothered to pretend that seeing Aomine Daiki as one of the walking dead  _wasn’t_  one of the things that lit up his Sundays. Was it bad that he kinda got a bit of a kick from seeing his rival stumbling around like he was about to fall off the earth, with metaphorical stormclouds brewing overhead? Ahh well, if his rival had been a little more alive, he probably would’ve appreciated seeing someone being as bloody hungover as he was now.

“Coffee?” he inquired with a smirk, knowing that coffee was just something that Aomine had never been able to stomach after a night of drinking.

“Fuck you.” Aomine turned back to the sink and topped up his water again as conversation began to resume; this time revolving around piecing together what had happened the night before –including learning where Kise had disappeared to and where Himuro had actually spent the night.

“…Did you see Kagami and Aomine get in that fight?” Takao inquired, pausing the game momentarily so that they could play twenty questions and get everyone up to speed if they were drawing blanks on any part of the night. They all knew that there was no real point in asking Himuro what he'd been up to -but that didn't mean they wouldn't try and get it out of him. 

“Yes,” Himuro answered simply, that small smile in place as though he knew some great secret and had no intention of sharing it with them.

“Okay, I _knew_ you were at the _Wave_ with us!” Takao exclaimed triumphantly, “Ahh…shit…Did you come for pool at –”

“No.”

“Dammit!” Kise groaned, “I could’ve sworn…Ahh…why can’t you just tell us what you got up to?? Share all the juicy details??”

“ –Oi, some people like their privacy,” Kagami snorted, rolling his eyes as Kise pouted once more, since Himuro’s face was still giving away zilch.

“Were there any cops involved this time?” Takao hazarded a guess, since Kise seemed kind of at a loss. Instead of answering, Himuro simply tapped his nose knowingly, and refused to say anything more on the topic. That of course, left the ex-point guard to try and figure out what on earth Himuro had been doing –not that he’d ever really get confirmation.

“…How’d it go with those chicks?” Wakamatsu inquired of Kise rather curiously, eyebrow raised slyly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kise replied innocently, batting his eyes as angelically as he possibly could, “We just went for drinks! Although…” The pout was back in place, “One of them knows Kasamatsu-senpai, and she wanted me to give him her number. He said he wasn’t interested, though…” He shook his head as though not understanding Kasamatsu’s mentality in the slightest.

“Hah!” Wakamatsu snorted obnoxiously, glancing pointedly over his shoulder at Aomine, only to discover that those blue eyes were already glaring at him, “Kasamatsu didn’t even go to town and he still did better than you!”

“Oi…shut up,” Aomine snapped irritably; apparently still not up for any good comebacks.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Takao shrugged teasingly, “He was getting on pretty well with that guy’s fist…” He stuffed a hand against his mouth to try and cover his snickers, “They seemed to have a beautiful thing going before Kagami went and broke them up…”

“Keep going and I’m fucking flipping your bed,” Aomine drawled warningly, and Takao scoffed, sticking out his lower lip and knowing that it was no idle threat.

“Aw,” he complained with a sigh, “And I had like so many jokes lined up about you needing another right hand in your life…” The room burst out laughing, much to the chagrin of the hungover Aomine –who looked like he rather wanted to chuck his bottle of water all over them.

In Kagami’s opinion, though, it was hard to _not_ be amused right now. Even Kuroko was smiling slightly into his notes –because what  _wasn’t_ amusing about seeing the usually so  _cool_  (if Kise was to be believed), smooth Aomine Daiki looking both like he hadn’t slept in a year, and like he’d slept in a dumpster?

“You look like shit,” Kagami decided to comment honestly, as Aomine hoisted up his juice bottle, and made for the door again; in no state to be joining social situations –all the while glaring at them rather mutinously. Takao and Kise had resumed their game, deciding that the challenge had been laid down, so it had to be met –as well as the fact that neither of them particularly felt like studying right now. Aomine skulked behind the couch, passing Kagami, who innocently pretended that he hadn’t said a thing.

“I’m gonna kick your ass for that, tomorrow,” Aomine growled back, his voice still raspy despite the amount of water he’d consumed. His hand came down on Kagami’s head, ruffling his hair in the way he  _knew_  the redhead absolutely hated.

“Ow! Oi, quit it, bastard,” Kagami complained, trying to swat Aomine away, cringing and feeling his friend tug lightly, snickering to himself at how annoyed Kagami got when he pulled his hair. Neither of them saw but Kuroko rolled his eyes dramatically. “What, not feeling up to a game today?” he added, teasing, because he knew that Aomine would hate the implication. As predicted, the hand on his head tugged more forcefully and he squawked in annoyance.

“Tch, can’t be bothered,” Aomine drawled, as a poor excuse to cover the fact that Kagami was completely correct and he was in no state for vigorous movement, “You’re not worth the effort.” Kagami knew that that was a straight up lie –Aomine wouldn’t bother with their almost daily matches after dinner during the week, if it were true –but he decided to let him have it.

“Is that so?” he mused, teasingly sounding disappointed, “Well, in that case, I guess I don’t have to turn up at the courts tomorrow afternoon…” He shrugged for added effect as though it couldn’t be helped, and felt Aomine’s hand still in his hair for a moment. He snuck a glance back, and saw that the other boy actually kind of seemed to be _pouting_. Then the hair pulling started again.

“OW! Oi! Hey! I was joking, I’m joking!” Kagami yelped crossly, swatting at Aomine’s hand and finally getting the bluenette quit his infernal yanking, since he seemed reassured that Kagami _wasn’t_ about to skip out on their standard mid-Monday one-on-one. Leaving the redhead with aching roots and a scowl on his face, he then turned and skulked off with his bottle of water; probably destined for the shower.

“Stupid asshole,” Kagami grumbled flatly, dragging himself up from his seat with a stretch and a dramatic yawn, “Ah, I guess it can’t be helped…” Sighing heavily, and humming a little as Kise decided that he might as well put off study for a while longer, and took his spot on the couch, Kagami headed towards the common room pantry.

Well, it wasn’t so much the common room’s pantry as it was  _Kagami’s_. It was a good thing the dorms allowed for seconds when it came to meals, but sometimes even that wasn’t enough for Kagami’s gargantuan appetite, and he’d wind up whipping up something else in the common room –something that usually had mouths watering and floor-mates swarming to steal a bit.

“ –What’s on the menu today?” Takao inquired curiously as he fished around in the cupboards and started yanking things out and tossing them onto the bench.

“Hmm?” Kagami remarked, almost unaware that he’d spoken, “Uhh…macaroni and cheese…” A couple of his friends stared at him incredulously, as though this wasn’t something that happened on a pretty much weekly basis. He didn’t get why they were so shocked.

“ –I can’t believe you’re seriously making him food,” Wakamatsu muttered, shaking his head incredulously, as Kagami turned the stove on and set about boiling some water for pasta. The stove wasn’t the greatest, and the bench was pretty small, but it did the job when necessary.

“I don’t mind,” Kagami admitted with a small shrug, having instinctively known by now that after Aomine made his first public appearance of the day (usually to stock up on water), he’d be heading to have a shower (though it was a wildcard as to whether he’d be using the bathroom on this floor or his own) –and after being watered and cleaned, he’d certainly be hungry.

And dorm food didn’t always treat his stomach well.

“I can’t believe you guys can have milk…” Takao muttered, shaking his head and exchanging glances with Sakurai. The pair of them were of the species of drunkard whose stomachs really  _didn’t_  agree with dairy the night after a heavy night of drinking. Wakamatsu mumbled something about how it shouldn’t be the fact that Kagami was cooking with _milk_ that should be the shocking thing. Kagami just chuckled to himself, yawning again and deciding that he wouldn’t do his homework until tomorrow. Sunday was recovery day, after all –and a day to be enjoyed.

Well, for some people, at least.

Even as Aomine returned to the bathroom down the hall; having nabbed one of Kagami’s clean towels, he could hear the sound of pasta being shaken into a pot, and the tell-tale sound of cheese being laboriously grated. Trust Kagami to know his favourite hangover meal by now.

There was something unbelievable about getting into the shower with the knowledge that when he got out, there would be a hot, delicious meal ready for him. Sure, Kagami would definitely threaten to not feed him when he discovered that Aomine had claimed his seat on the couch; there would definitely be an irritated argument, resulting in Aomine almost getting his food confiscated if he didn’t move his ass (sometimes pride won out, but usually the need to settle a stomach took priority). Sometimes he was reminded that Sunday mornings would definitely be a lot harder if Kagami wasn’t around –not that he’d ever say something like that, because he _didn’t_ need his help or anything like that…

But it was still kinda cool. And Kagami’s bed had better blankets than his.

Aomine just sat there under the spray for god knows how long; relaxing and letting the warm water soothe his pounding head. He probably should’ve shaved, but he didn’t see too much point, because no matter how long he sat there for, he couldn’t wash away the look of someone who had drank to excess the night before. He knew that he could sit in the shower for as long as he damn well wanted, but the thing was, he wasn’t going to look any more presentable for it. The rest of the crazy assholes he grudgingly called his friends would mock the shit out of him for how bad he looked –but he was used to it, and fucking _knew_ that he looked like crap. Even Satsuki, when she came up to check on him (by way of prodding his body for bruises to make sure he was taking care of himself), would comment on how bad he looked –and how ‘Kagamin’ looked so much more alive…and how lucky he was to have him around.

Yeah, yeah, not like the idiot needed to get a big head about that.

He chuckled to himself, humming under his breath –something wordless and tuneless to keep himself awake. (He didn’t want any repeat incidences of what happened that one time he fell asleep in the shower). He knew what the rest of the afternoon would be like, and, had he not been bothered by a pounding headache and the urge to curl into the foetal position, he might’ve been okay with it.

Firstly, he’d avoid listening to Kise. There was something about the pitch of his voice that just really disagreed with his head. He’d eat whatever Kagami had made for him –you could say what you wanted about the guy, but he sure could cook. They’d play video games until dinner, which was when they’d all be back together; a little more animated than earlier in the day –and most of them with their appetites returned and hangovers a distant memory. Aomine would not be one of them; opting only for hot chocolate and painkillers –though his ability to converse would probably be much improved by that time, and he’d hopefully able to get vengeance for all the earlier mocking. Was there a single bartender Takao _hadn't_ flirted with last night? Probably not. And somehow, he always managed to come away with free drinks...He and Kise had a knack for talking their way into giveaways. And what dirt did he have on the others? Well, there had been a pretty brunette eyeing up Kagami from across the dancefloor –but as oblivious as ever, the idiot hadn’t noticed…And Kise had done another of his ‘ _I’m so glad we’re friends_ ’ speeches again…

He’d have to dredge up some things from his hazy memories to embarrass them right back.

And after dinner (where they’d hopefully fill some of the blank patches in Aomine’s evening), everyone would say they were ready for an early night, but Aomine knew for certain that everyone would be up until at least eleven (though in Midorima’s case, he wasn’t given a choice –Takao held more sway over him than he cared to admit). He probably would’ve benefited from an early night, but there was usually some video game challenge thrown down, and he might not have been up to playing basketball (much to his displeasure), but a round or two in a virtual setting, he could definitely handle.

In the shower, Aomine started singing.

 

* * *

 

“Seriously, Kagami; what the hell?” Wakamatsu sighed, shaking his head as the smell of cheese sauce began to fill the common room, making Takao and Sakurai retch a little. “What are you making him food for? Did the guy even thank you for saving his ass last night?”

“Hmm? Nah,” Kagami shrugged dismissively, “You would’ve done it, if it was Sakurai getting in another fight, yeah?”

“…Well, of course…” Wakamatsu had to admit, eyebrow raised.

“It’s kinda like that.”

“Right.” Himuro and Kuroko shared a look and smiled secretively to themselves.

“ –But anyway…” Wakamatsu continued, still frowning, “Like, backing him up in a fight’s one thing but, don’t you think you do too much for the guy?” This comment, Kagami pondered for a moment, mulling it over and admitting that maybe he helped Aomine a little too much sometimes. But then again, if Aomine didn’t get over his hangover on Sunday, then he’d be useless on Monday when they had their standard lunch-time one-on-ones between lectures. There was something about Kagami that always riled up the bluenette and got him fired up, but there was only so energetic one could be when they were fighting back a killer hangover.

Aomine could definitely be an asshole, but when it came down to it, he was one of his best friends –not that he’d ever say that out loud. Or to Aomine. Or to Kuroko, who would  _definitely_  make some comment about the two of them being very similar.

Which was true, but that didn’t mean Kagami liked to hear it.

Down the hallway, he could hear Aomine’s deep voice singing particularly off-key –which was hilarious because when the bluenette put a bit of effort in, he was actually pretty good –good enough to beat Kise’s high score on Singstar 80’s at least. But there were limits to how much someone could give a fuck on a Sunday afternoon, so Aomine’s voice was proving to be rather grating.

Kagami didn’t really know exactly what it was, but somehow, every time they went through this, as soon as he dished up food, Aomine would return to the common room; probably still drying his hair off, and in the standard hangover attire –sweat pants and the baggiest shirt he owned and that he had been forbidden by Momoi from wearing outside. He’d flop down; definitely in Kagami’s ‘spot’, and have to be forcibly removed when the redhead stomped over with something for him to eat.

Then the afternoon would resume, Aomine leaning obnoxiously against Kagami’s shoulder and chowing down on whatever the redhead happened to have made for him, and pretty much being a pain in the ass and trying to get him to lose whatever game he was playing. Maybe Midorima would come up, complain about their laziness, and then maybe join in -only to be pounced upon by a newly distressed Kise; reminded of the work he had yet to do. Maybe Sakurai and Kuroko would finish their work and come join the games -that was always a scary time; Sakurai had quit the mouth on him when he started getting into it. 

Aomine appeared to be attempting to sing  _Eye of the Tiger_. Takao was cringing at the butchered notes.

“Ahh, Aomine doesn’t do too well on Sundays, does he?” he commented with a laugh, “Although I bet if Shin-chan came out with us, he’d probably be similar.”

“Hah! Now that’s something I’d probably pay to see!” Wakamatsu snickered.

“ –I think it would be fun to take Midorimacchi to town!” Kise exclaimed excitedly, “Imagine him on the dancefloor or having a pretty girl grind on him…” He and Takao burst out laughing and even Himuro seemed amused by the idea.

A cracking high note made their laughter intensify.

“What would Aomine do without you?” Himuro chuckled as Kagami started draining the pasta he was making.

“Be fucking sick, I guess.”

“Tch, why do you do so much?” Wakamatsu muttered, rolling his eyes, “Every damn weekend you’re always letting him get away with shit –”

“I do not!” Kagami squawked crossly, his ears turning red at the accusation, “Kuroko! Tell him I fucking  _don’t_  let Aomine get away with stuff!”

“I wouldn’t like to lie, Kagami-kun.”

“I think it’s nice, Kagamicchi,” Kise chirped with a bright smile, glancing over at the redhead with a small chuckle. Kagami didn’t like the look in his eyes. “We all have our off days…Aominecchi just happens to have one every week…” Kagami had to laugh at that, a little embarrassed that he’d been called out on how actually helpful he was. If he’d been asked, he would’ve pointed out that had Kuroko, or Takao, or Tatsuya ended up with hangovers as destructive as the ones Aomine got, he’d do the same for them. It just so happened that they usually wound up okay...

And if he thought about it…

“I guess…” Kagami shrugged, hearing the sound of the bathroom door opening.

Wakamatsu turned to him and raised an eyebrow sceptically. Kagami’s face broke out into a small, kind of embarrassed grin as he scratched the back of his neck. Ahh, well, he wouldn’t expect him to understand how he kind of just  _knew_. Aomine wasn’t as much of a dickhead as he led the rest of the world to believe. The guy had taken punches for him, defended him when people got mouthy in town (not that he needed his defence, the asshole), missed classes for a one-on-one with him, and he was pretty sure he dreamed about basketball (judging from the way Aomine mumbled in his sleep.)

They were pretty similar. Maybe that’s why Kagami knew. And Aomine, wandering down the corridor in his towel, heard his words, and scoffed at how bloody sappy the stupid guy sounded. But nonetheless, his lips twitched up into a small smile.

“I guess it’s coz I know he’d do the same for me.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> AoKaga if you squint, I know, but I'm planning to expand and continue; maybe even explore what goes down during these nights out in town, so leave a comment or something if you're interested! 
> 
> Much love,   
> xx K


End file.
